Lose Your Breath (Detectives Kane and Alton)

Annie took the weapon and nodded. “I know what to do.”

“Good.” He stood and walked into the bathroom.

Annie could hear his voice speaking low, even his communications were top secret. When he returned, he made no comment about his conversation and just laid his sidearm on the pillow, climbed into bed, and in seconds was asleep. She stared at him. His breathing came slow and steady. For the first time since he’d rescued her, he looked at peace. She watched him for ages, it was hard to believe that handsome face hid a warrior inside. Checking her feelings, she turned her head away, stood, and went to the sink to clean the dishes. She’d heard how women fell head over heels for their rescuers and it wasn’t hard to understand why. She figured it was the attention. She’d had few boyfriends, mostly at college and the casual type of relationship. All of them had life goals and none of them included her. Dave was attentive and protected her with his life, so no wonder she’d become enchanted by him. Yeah, that was the perfect word, enchanted. He’d cast a spell over her, that’s for sure. They argued but the banter between them was never cruel. He spoke his mind without holding back and so did she. This was something she found unusual for a military man. They usually acted overly respectful around women. Not that he didn’t treat her with respect, but most Marines she’d met had called her ma’am of late and kept their distance. He barked orders at her as if he was above her in the chain of command. She thought on this for a while and looked at him again. He’d neatly folded his cammies and she noted his rank insignia pins were missing from the collar. Why? Perhaps if captured, he’d say he was a deserter or of no consequence to be traded or beheaded for a show on the internet. She frowned, the way he acted and his expertise would denote a high-ranking officer.

Annie kept the fire going by adding wood from a basket piled with logs and added water to the pot and stirred the contents. The sun was high in the sky, and she figured it must be around noon, Dave had slept for four hours and hadn’t moved. She stood and stretched, refilled the kettle, and placed it on the fire. She smiled at the ingenious way the grate had been designed. A hook to hang a pot that reminded her of a witch’s cauldron and below in the embers sat two smaller iron stands for a kettle and another small pot. She stood and went to the window keeping well behind the blinds. Children kicked a soccer ball in the street and a few people walked along the sidewalk. The town had sustained substantial damage. Many homes stood in ruins. The rows of houses had empty gaping holes like missing teeth. Bombings had destroyed a once thriving town.

She didn’t hear Dave get up and dress. He moved like a ghost, not making a sound. When he cleared his throat behind her, it startled her and she spun around to look at him. “Oh, you’re awake. Coffee?”

“Sure.” He stretched and pressed his hands flat on the ceiling. “It’s cramped in here but we’ll be moving as soon as it’s dark.” He took the cup she offered him and sat down at the table, turning the cup in his long fingers. “It’s going to be as boring as hell for the next few days but you’ll have to be patient. Rest up and get strong. We’re going to need you in peak condition if we’re planning on getting out of here alive.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll check in. Back in five.”

Annie added another log to the fire and sat and stared at the flames. She could see so many things in the fire. Fairies with wide fluttering wings seemed to drift across the glowing charcoal in orange and yellow flowing dresses. Tall trees reached for a smoky sky. She loved to paint, and when she returned home, would paint a fairy scene, set at sunset, and use similar colors as a remembrance of her escape from hell.

A knock came at the door and Dave charged out of the bathroom and waved her inside. He grabbed the underwear from the line and thrust it at her all the time speaking in fast Arabic. He dragged on his robe and covered his head. Annie dashed into the small room, shutting the door behind her, and wrapping the underwear in a towel. Through the door, she could hear men talking in hushed tones. Terrified someone would open the door and see a blonde American, she grabbed a towel to cover her head and face.

Pressed against the door, she listened for footsteps but heard nothing more. Where was Dave? Had someone taken him prisoner? Heart pounding, she went to the window and peered out but could only see the wall of the next building. A slight sound came from the other room and she turned and stared at the door. The knob turned slowly and panic gripped her. She glanced around but could find nothing to use as a weapon. Trembling, she did the only thing possible and averted her eyes by staring at the floor.

“Hey, it’s all good.” Dave had walked across the small space in one stride. “You’re shaking all over.” His arms went around her. “I won’t let them near you, Annie. You have to trust me to protect you. I don’t go down easy. It would take a bullet to the head or the heart to slow me down.”

Annie rested her head against his shoulder and held on to him. He felt so good in her arms she didn’t want to let go. “Are you really that good? Is that why my dad asked you to rescue me?”

“Let’s hope you never have to find out.” He brushed a kiss over her lips before stepping back and then gathered up the damp washing and carried it back to the fire. “They’ve given us goat’s milk, sugar, more bread, and basbousa.” He grinned at her over one shoulder. “I love cream and sugar in my coffee but goat’s milk will do just fine.”

Suddenly breathless, Annie pressed her fingers to her lips. His kiss had been so gentle and undemanding, but what did it mean? Confused, she hung the towel on the rail and followed him back into the other room. Against the wall, someone had stacked bags and a cardboard box sat on the table. She stared at him. “What’s basbousa?”

“It’s a traditional Middle Eastern semolina cake. It’s wonderful, all sweet and sticky. You’ll love it.” Dave turned to look at the pot on the stove. “Have you been stirring the pot?”

“Yeah.” Annie peered in the box and then made the coffee, adding milk and sugar. “It needs water every so often to stop it sticking to the bottom of the pan. “Cake and coffee will be great for lunch. I’m not sure I could eat that casserole or whatever they call it three times a day.” She sat down, feeling drained and sore all over. “I’ll eat, grab some more pain relief, and then sleep some if that’s okay?”

“Sure.” Dave pulled the cake from the box and cut it with a knife. “We’ll be moving as soon as it gets dark. Once we’re at the new safe house, I’ll be leaving you alone for maybe a couple of hours. I’ll leave a weapon with you and I’d suggest you remain covered until I return. As before, say nothing, keep your eyes on the floor.”

Fear dropped over her and she clutched her hands together so he couldn’t see them trembling. She swallowed hard. Asking questions seemed taboo but she needed to know. “Where are you going?”

“I can’t say but it’s part of the deal for keeping us safe.” Dave looked at her thoughtfully for a beat and then shrugged. “I’m not planning on putting myself in danger. It’s a mission like any other. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Unappeased, Annie nodded and sipped her coffee. “So where is this safe house?”

“I don’t know.” Dave pushed cake onto two plates and handed her a fork. “I figure the idea is to move us across town as inconspicuously as possible. We hide out during the day and move at night. I’ll pack up our gear, we’ll need to be ready to move out when they come for us. Eat up and sleep. You’re going to be awake all night.”

Annie needed to ask the question burning on her tongue. “And if you don’t come back?”

“You know the answer, Annie.” Dave bit into his cake, sighed in pleasure, and then narrowed his eyes at her. “I’ll leave the Glock.”

Chapter Fifteen

Texas

Blood pressure rising, Wolfe stared at the screen array on his desk. In order to gain the locals’ cooperation, his operative had sent himself on a suicide mission. His last communication had rocked him to the core. Without anyone to watch his back, Ninety-eight H had set up on the roof of a building, his sniper rifle aimed at the patrolling militia. He chewed on the inside of his mouth as the infrared images moved across the screen. How his operative had organized a group of friendlies to do a cleanup operation in the short time since he’d arrived amazed him, but hadn’t made the mission any less dangerous.

Communication with a sniper during a mission was usually restricted to the basic order to proceed or not. A spotter would feed him information about wind and weather and check any other distractions that could alter the trajectory of the bullet. Ninety-eight H was on his own, although his rifle had so many gizmos that he really didn’t need a spotter. A sniper needed to use all his powers of concentration, especially at night, to make a clean shot. They usually only took one shot, but with many targets in a combat situation, his sniper would need to be fully engaged to reload and shoot. Wolfe didn’t want to distract him, but as his only ally, he had no choice. He pressed his com. “Ninety-eight H, do you copy?”

“Copy.”

Wolfe bit back a sigh of relief. “I have you on satellite. Truck with gunner, east of your position, two streets back, moving at ten miles per hour. There’s a group of ten or twelve men moving around the building identified as the hostiles’ HQ. Foot patrols move out in twos but only move along the perimeter. What do you need from me?”

“Copy. Intel says two trucks patrol at night. Cleanup crews are standing by. Give me a countdown to contact with the patrol. Once we’re done here, I’ll be moving across town to neutralize the other truck. I figure once the trucks fail to return to base, they’ll send out foot patrols. Keep me updated on all movements and countdown to arrival as before. I’ll report each downed target.”